


Matinee

by miori



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Orphanage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2018-10-25 12:36:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10764402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miori/pseuds/miori
Summary: John finds work at a small orphanage in the countryside. Everything turns out perfectly, until it doesn't.NOTE: ABANDONED WORK





	1. Begginings

Waking up from a nightmare was always a bit different to him than what he'd seen on tv.  
First of all, there was no gasping for air. There was no shooting up out of bed in despair.  
His eyes fluttered open, heavily. He could feel the sweat under his clothes, and over his sheets, as he lay unmoving in the dark. He could hear his own heartbeat. Unmoving, he lay on his bed for a few minutes, going over the dream top to bottom, as if writing it in a mental dream log.  
Finally, John repositioned, now looking up at the ceiling for awhile. It seemed almost unfair, he thought. There's no real method to dealing with bad dreams. You can't fight back, you can't run away, you can only wait patiently for the next one to roll around, earning a couple of hours of sleep at a time. 

John was tired. He didn't really notice how many times he woke up that night, but reckoned 9:00am was as good as any hour to crawl out of bed and try and plan his day onwards.  
He never really started his days with a plan. That part of his current life was certainly different from his military days. He clearly remembered the comfort of every day being more or less planned ahed of him, hopelessly repetitive as it sometimes was.  
He couldn't help but muse over the memories. It was something of an intense experience, but more so it was really just his whole life. Memories from before his service seemed scarce, even while he was serving, perhaps due to having started very young. He started his medical studies straight out of highschool, continued to his combat training, and before he knew it his whole life centered at the base. His troop, his friends, his work.  
The military had a strange habit of getting you used to people changing, strong friendships were made nearly overnight, and having friends go under a job or title change, or being released for different reasons, was something that had him used to friendships seemingly ending overnight as well.  
What he hadn't counted on, was ever having to leave, himself. 

He felt powerless. Not in the physical sense, though of course that was a completely different problem on its own, but in the sense that he was completely hopeless.  
Unable to hold a steady job, unable to sleep at night, unable to shake his past, he was at a complete loss of what to do.  
He got out of bed, for one.

John stretched as he drew up the blinds. The harsh light the sun let it slowly subsided and revealed his, rather pale looking, flat. Perhaps 'room' was a better term for it, he thought idly.  
Nevertheless, the light, signifying a new day, felt nice. Leaving the already-fuzzy memories of his nightmare behind him, John was very ready to attempt to shake off the feeling it left at his stomach while he was at it. 

He dismissed the idea of a late indoor breakfast as he grabbed his keys and wallet to leave for the day. He didn't really have anything planned but he'd been holed up in his room enough days to know through and through there's not much good in it. He was tired of it, frankly. For someone who's all that keen on finding his way back into getting some excitement into his life, he sure didn't do much to help himself with it. 

The first stop was a small bakery a few blocks away. It was always rather quiet there, it probably mainly kept its head above the water thanks to a few small offices nearby. 

John entered the store with a small greeting and a nod at the clerk. A familiar young girl, just fresh into college. She smiled warmly at him as he took a look around, despite the both of them knowing ahed of time he wasn't planning on buying anything he hadn't before.  
The store had a small wall-refrigerator closer to the counter, displaying a convenient selection of yogurts and drinks. John grabbed a bottle of iced coffee and turned to the counter, ever greatfull the store was in a rural enough part of the city its prices reflected accordingly.  
"Mighty good weather today, ain't it?" the young woman hummed cheerfully.  
"Sure is," John replied, "I was thinking it'd be nice to use the opportunity to get out a little before the rain returns."  
"Oh, definitly, wish I could say that about myself." she laughed in return.  
"Studies going well?" John asked, trying his best smile. She always reminded him of Sarah Swayer, a student he shared a class with back in his training days.  
"Oh, I'd like to think so." She said happily, taking the coins he layed out on the counter and returning him his drink.  
"Keep it up, then! I'm rooting for you," he laughed as he packed up and waved goodbye before leaving the store. 

The obvious first stop passing by, John ran a mental list of the next places he could go in an attempt to help the day pass by. 

 

"You need a job, John," Harry sighed over the phone. He was now sitting at a small park bench looking at the people walking by. Maybe he should look into getting a dog. That'd be a great reason to wander around, and regardless he always quite liked them. Big cheerful things, they were.  
"I am trying," he sighed into his phone, "it's really not as simple as it sounds." John thought through a mental list of pretty much any medical institution he'd tried applying to within reaching distance. He was proud to say he was quite the brilliant doctor, but 'reaching distance' was becoming much more narrow than he'd like to admit, and his ability to seem willing to work at some small off-hand clinic, treating the common cold, more than anything else, seemed more and more tantalizing.  
Harry sighed as she let the silence linger a moment longer on her side of the conversation. It wasn't the first time they had talked about this, and each time she could hear John's awful resistance to the subject. It was clear to her they both aimed for the same thing, so why was he being so difficult?  
John cleared his throat, "let's talk about this later, yeah?" he pleaded, "I wouldn't want to take up any more of your time, anyway."  
"Yeah, ok, Johnny. Stay safe now, you hear?" She concluded teasingly, trying her best not to let her exhaustion reach her voice.  
John smiled sadly, "You got it, Harry. You too." 

He got up and trying to shrug it off. Nice weather as it was, the winds were still rolling in the cold air, and he regretted not wearing something warmer today. Regardless, he was quite set on enjoying London while he could. 

Leaving wasn't completely his choice, he could admit that much to himself. He did try and believe it was at least partially his decision. His ties with the city slowly wore off and the initial fire to do anything to stay within it seemed almost childish to him now.  
The way he lived was... poor. An army pension was as useful as any, but with no real job it was difficult getting by, and if he would be completely fair with himself, sometimes the city wasn't all that much when he couldn't bring himself to get out of bed.  
At the end of the day, John knew he preferred staying in London. He preferred things staying as they were now, as dismal as it seemed to admit it, but there were more than enough reasons to leave. At the very least, he owed it to Harry, who claimed he owed it to himself. 

 

John didn't get too many emails these days. He almost missed the comical spam mail he used to get, before the era of separate pre-sorted junkmail inboxes.  
Whenever he checked his email the long list of repeated automated periodical mail stared back at him, a couple of repeating titles he hadn't bothered checking the mails from before mass marking them as 'Read'.  
This time, though, a bolded (1) was marked down his main inbox.  
It armed Harry decided to continue their conversation in form of a title-less email with a list of potential jobs.  
They were awful neat, he noted, an organized list of titles with either a link or a phone number beside each. 

None of the positions on the list spoke out to him. Some were more obvious, clinics and medical facilities nearby. Most were practical, hands-on, some seemed more research based.  
They were all well picked choices, he noticed. Nothing too fancy, all manageable both in terms of getting accepted and in terms of what he was capable of doing. John felt a mix of irritation and fondness at Harry for the email, he was tired of her trying to fix everything by getting him up on his legs and moving, but felt a strange warmness by knowing how much she'd improved over the past two years or so, since he returned. She was finally able to take care of herself, properly, and John was more than glad to see the thought she put into the list, as much as it made him feel like the pet goldfish given to a child to learn to be responsible. 

He sighed and gave it a second look.  
Some of the names he recognized, clinics and medical centers he'd skimmed though, himself, before partially giving up on finding a job he can hold anytime soon.  
John decided to go by the method of elimination. He started with clinics he's already applied for and turned down when they returned his call, moved on to any facilities that seemed to be more research based, teaching positions and the like, and so forth. He had a long day ahed of him. 

 

The two names stared back at him from his computer screen. The Baker's Children Home, and Baskerville's Research Facility.  
He decided on the two for one primary reason; both required living on-sight. Each had their own ups and downs, of course, but at the end both seemed dreadfully different from what he'd been used to up until now.

The first, Baker's Children Home, was a small orphanage near the countryside. They were listed along with the name of the facility's owner, one Martha Hudson, and a phone number.  
After a short call with the lady, John managed to discover the position seemed to be about half nurse, half a general caretaker. The orphanage consisted of a select few workers, fitting for a rather small amount of children overall. It promised a homely, laid down life in the countryside.

The other, Baskerville's Research Facility, was, as the name suggested, a rather large government-millitary research facility. They had a sleek looking website, minimalistic design, John noted, that seemed to describe what they do in the vaguest way possible. John gathered they worked around the medicinal field, but the rest sounded like the well phrased censorship he often found himself using when asked the wrong question at the wrong time. The job sounded almost nostalgic, but he wasn't sure he wanted all the titles with none of the field work.

Right. This was getting ridiculous, he should be able to be decisive enough to tell what he wants between two complete polar opposites.  
But he wasn't. John sighed.

Flip a coin, maybe?  
As he searched around for a coin, he couldn't help smiling slightly. He heard once that when you flip a coin, you'll find yourself wishing for the option you truly want while the coin's still in the air, solving the problem for you in a much smoother manner. He wondered if the fact he'd half expected that to happen was what prevented it from playing out, as he stared at the coin now layed nearly on the back of his hand.

Baker's Children Home it is, then. Right.


	2. Familiarizing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading this far.   
> I'll admit I was incredibly suprised to get comments and kudos, they were a great motivator. I'm very greatful for your support.

John stepped out of the cab reluctantly.  
He'd talked the times and dates through with Martha, who was more than kind and accommodating, but he still couldn't help but feel some level of dread at the situation. 

It's been more than awhile since John had to go through any real job interviews. The ones back in London seemed to fly by, without him caring too much for the ping pong of answers he found himself playing through.   
No, this was different. An unfamiliar setting, unfamiliar requirements, hell, an unfamiliar city. Or lack thereof.   
He was getting a bit nervous, though not necessarily in a bad way.   
Nervousness was good for the heart, after all, and it came with a twinge of excitement he couldn't help but feel was a bit silly for, considering the situation. 

It wasn't much to take in the whole house.   
It was something of a large cottage, it seemed to be made of wood alone, giving the impression it's both towering high and crumbling low at the same time. Well preserved, but with the obvious wear of time. John felt awful fond of it already.   
Martha, he assumed, stood proudly at the entrance and beckoned him in. 

"Hello, Martha, lovely to see you," he started with a smile.   
The older woman looked at him warmly, "it's Mrs Hudson near the children, love," she corrected with laughter in her voice.  
"Of course. Mrs Hudson, then."   
"Oh, it's just lovely to see you here, John. We were ever so worried about getting a nurse for the children, you know?" she tutted while ushering John inside, he let the little demotion slide, for now.   
John nodded along "Yes. I'm really hoping I'll be able to work along with you and the children."   
"Why of course! Shall we get right to it, then? Come along, now." 

After reaching a small office at the second floor of the building, John was sat down to 'talk business', as Martha put it. He was surprised there was little actual talk about his experience and abilities as much as there was about the place and his working conditions. It didn't take much to figure out he wasn't going to have much of an interview, once he'd handed in some basic information about himself.  
It was actually quite a nice surprise, if not slightly degrading to the job. 

They agreed John would have a day to do the back and forth between the orphanage and London to get his belongings, mainly clothes, to the house, then another 3 days off work to get himself settled in.   
He politely declined Martha's offers of a longer time before he starts working, honestly, Harry could take care of his things back at home, and he was eager to start doing something with himself. 

The rest of the day went by quickly. Between trains and busses, awkwardly shuffling his things in a green duffle bag he had from his army days, he was back at the orphanage by late evening.  
John was all too tired from a day of travel, and he was more than ready to settle into whatever tiny, uncomfortable bed he was sure the orphanage got set up for him. 

Breathing in, he tried to take in the place's atmosphere once more. The airy, green bushes and trees around gave it a secluded feeling, Martha's motherly demeanor fit well with it and gave the whole place a very stereotypical happy-orphanage feel. It was nice. Calming. 

He stepped in, looking around nervously. The door was left open and he wasn't completely sure what to do next. He could go up to Martha's office, but she didn't quite look the time to hole herself up in the little room. On the other hand he wasn't too familiar with the place or its layout. There were a few kids running around, mainly talking in groups of twos or threes.   
The little things were already registering to him as something of a permanent fixture in the house, he couldn't really imagine it without them.

"Uhm. Excuse me?" he tried, a bit lost.   
One of the kids stopped in his tracks to give him a puzzled look, a short redhead clutching an airplane plushie.   
"Could you maybe help me out?" John tried again, doing his best to sound as friendly and non-threatening as a complete stranger could to a 4 year old.   
The boy nodded slowly.   
Right. Probably a shy one, then. "Could you maybe tell me where Ma- Um, Mrs. Hudson is?" He's going to have to get used to calling her by her last name with the kids.   
The boy cocked his head, then closed his eyes and comically leaned forward, making a bit of a show of it as he, apparently, thought through the request. John couldn't help a small smile.   
He was apparently finished with thinking about it now because the boy opened his eyes and reached a hand out to John, the older man then took it and the boy started paddling down the creaky floorboards, John in tow.   
They passed what John could only assume was the dining room, as well as a couple of other closed doors. Eventually, the boy stopped, and John looked up to see an amused looking 40-something year old man looking back at them, he wore a simple grey sweater and some sweatpants, both looking torn up to the point John couldn't call them anything but his work clothes.   
"Hello," the man said warmly. Giving his face a better look, he was actually quite handsome, soft features, light stubble and pepper salt hair tipping off his age more than anything else.   
"Hi. Uhm." John said.  
"I'm Greg," he said, patting his hands on his sides to shrug off some white powder that was sticking to them. Flour, probably. The cook, then. "How can I help you?"   
John straighten up, "Yes, right. I'm John, I'm going to be the new doctor. I came around earlier with Martha, but I can’t seem to-" John stopped, surprised, as he felt a small tug at his hand. He hadn't noticed the little ginger boy hadn't let go yet.   
Looking at him, the boy cocked his head again, this time with a frown.   
"Mrs Hudson," John corrected. "She said I should stay here for the night." He added, raising the bag slung over his back.   
"Oh! You're the new nurse,"  
"- Doctor."   
"I heard you were gonna come today. That's great then, let me show you around," he continued while patting his hands on his sides again, setting off two little clouds of white powder.   
Greg turned to the little boy holding John's hand, still standing there, nodding along as if he was obviously a crucial part of the conversation.   
"That a boy, Martin. Great job bringing him here." he said fondly, gently patting the boy's head.   
Martin nodded proudly, then turned to John. The doctor smiled at him, and Martin patted him on the arm, though he only reached about as high as his elbow. John reckoned the motion was supposed to be a reassuring one, similar to Greg's, perhaps, and added a small "Thank you." before the boy went on his way. 

"I think Martin there took you under his wing," Greg laughed.   
John smiled, the boy seemed quite happy to show him around, indeed.   
The taller man shook his head, "Alright then, let me introduce myself again. I'm Greg Lestrade, I work down at the kitchen." he smiled and offered his hand.   
John shook it, "I'm John Watson, going to be the doctor around."   
"It's good to have you around, John. The kids could use someone to patch them up nearby." he nodded to himself and continued, "our room is over there. Let me show you it, yeah?" Lestrade said as he began moving down the hall.  
"Our room?"  
"Oh yeah. It's rather large, so nothing to worry about there. I'm afraid it is a joint room, though. It'll be me, you and Abel."   
"A joint room." He repeated. John let out a sigh, "I'll admit it's no exactly what I was imagining, but it's nothing unfamiliar."   
"That's good, then. Big family? It's a bit different from that, but I'm sure you'll get used to it just fine, given some time." Lestrade concluded, stopping in front of one of the closed doors John and the ginger boy, Martin, passed by earlier.   
"Not really, just me, my sister, and my mother. It's more of a work-related deal." He corrected, while stepping inside. 

The room was rather spacious, it had four bunk beds, one pushed up each corner of the room. Between each of the beds there was a small desk and chair, both neatly pushed against the wall, one had some office supplies scrawled across it. The wall across him had three small wooden cabinets, one next to another, pushed against it. Above it was a big, currently closed, window. 

"It's nice." said John.   
"Glad it's to your liking," Greg said, raising an eyebrow. "It definitely does grow on you, though. I'll have to talk to Abel before emptying the food cabinet for you," he pointed at the one on the left, "but you can put your stuff on the top of your bunk. Or bottom. Whichever one you're not sleeping on, though I promise you the novelty of the top bunk wears off very quickly."   
John nodded, it wasn't hard to tell which bunk was his. The other two had white sheets neatly folded on them, as well as a mattress to fold them on. "Uhm, where do I get a-?"   
"Abel will get you your mattress soon as he knows you're here." Greg laughed, "Don't worry about it. Martha has the tendency to tell us things a bit last second.”   
"That sounds familiar,” he smiled, “thank you.”   
"Don't mention it. I'm gonna head off to finish cleaning up, and then dishes," Greg said, "Feel free to get comfortable in the meantime. What's mine is yours."   
John barely managed a small "Cheers," and the man was off.   
The room really wasn't too bad. He could get used to this. 

It was a couple of hours later when Greg entered the room alongside another man, Abel, most likely. It was getting late and they both seemed rather tired. Greg's messy shirt had a few damp spots from washing the dishes and his workmate's clothes were at about the same state, if not worse.   
"Hello, John." said the lanky man, "I'm Abel. I hear you're going to be our new nurse. I hope you've liked the place so far," he smiled.   
"Doctor, actually. And absolutely, it's nice to meet you. Greg never mentioned what your job was, around the house?" John replied politely, getting up from the floor where he'd been sitting bored out of his mind.  
"Oh just your everyday handyman. God knows, if anywhere needs a live-in one it's this place.” He laughed.  
John nodded, smiling. He gathered it’d be a hands-on job from the state of the man’s clothes.   
“Right then, shall we get you settled?” he declared as he turned around to leave the room, then beckoned to them from the entrance. 

After carrying in the mattress and setting it on the empty bottom bunk, they got on to working through the food cabinet. It turned out to be one of the three identical cabinets, obviously made for storing clothes, with dry foods and some cans and drinks stocked up inside them. Abel and Greg explained it was for nights when they were too lazy to walk all the way to the proper kitchen.   
The food was then moved to the kitchen, John tried to memorize the entrance and way to it, and, finally they got back. John unpacked his things into the cabinet, while Abel and Greg went to get him sheets and a blanket from one of the storage rooms from the second floor.   
By the time everything was set they all collapsed into their respective beds in relative silence.   
John didn’t need much time to fall sleep.


	3. Meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally drew out simple floorplans for the orphanage. Would anyone be interested in seeing that?

John blinked slowly as he woke himself up. The view to his side was unfamiliar at first, but it didn't take him long to recognize it.  
  
He hoped he wasn't the type to move around too much when he had nightmares.  
  
The room was surprisingly well lit by the sunshine streaming in from the window. It was a bit too hot outside, which made for a wonderful motivator to get out of his puffy, sweaty bed.  
  
Eventually he reached out for his phone which was left at the other side of the room, on what used to be the food cabinet. 8:30am. His agreement with Martha on three days off rang clearly in his head as he contemplated getting back into bed with one of the books he shoved in his duffle the day before. Probably best not to, though, it’s going to be hard enough to familiarize himself with the place even without the leisure of not needing to do any actual work during the time.  
  
Looking through the room revealed Greg has already left, his sheets were just about all over the place, including a set of shorts and a tee-shirt mangled up in the mess. Across the room was Abel's bed, still very much occupied.  
  
John picked up a fresh set of clothes as he tried to memorize the steps to the 'staff bathrooms', a set of 2 toilet stalls and 3 showers, obviously meant to handle a much larger capacity of staff than the house currently held. He changed quickly and walked back to his room where he shoved the laundry back into his bag. He's going to have to remember to ask where to put it, later. He wasn't sure if he liked the idea of having it done for him or not, considering what a small amount of staff the house actually held.  
  
Wandering around seem about as good of an idea as any. He left the room quietly, trying not to disturb the man still sleeping inside.  
  
The hall is void of any children, today, he noted duly. Though, the sounds of kids running around, chatting and stomping cheerfully, was still obviously present in the house. It was a nice way to start the day, the house felt lived-in and John was starting to look forward to meeting the little guys.  
  
He decided on the kitchen first, John remembered which door it was quite clearly what with the back and forth they did yesterday, while cleaning out the food cabinet. He opened the door slightly and peeked inside.  
Greg was running around between a trolly full of dirty dishes and a set of ovens, giving out the lovely smell of fresh homemade bread.  
  
John opened the door a bit more and stepped inside, carefully.  
  
The cook looked up at the sudden creaking noise, then smiled when he saw who it was, “Good morning, sunshine.” he joked.  
  
“Good morning, Greg.” John replied with a smile, “busy day?” he said sympathetically.  
  
“Busy life.” Greg countered, shaking his head. “Just finished up with the first batch, the older kids. The real challenge is up ahed, though. God. Bread and milk, you wouldn't think there's a lot that could go wrong there.”  
  
“Need any help?” Please, god, don't, John pleaded mentally.  
  
Greg smiled as he finally stretched out from hunching over the bottom ovens, “Nah, I got it covered,” he assured him, with a light pat on the shoulders.  
  
John nodded, “Shall I get out of your hair then? Wouldn't want to distract you before your big battle.”  
  
“I've got some free time before lunch, let me show you around then, some.” Greg offered.  
  
“That sounds great. Before lunch, it is.” he agreed.  
  
“Have you met Molly yet?”  
  
“Hm, no, don't think I have.” John shook his head.  
  
“She takes care of the older ones. They're out in the garden now, I believe. Their day to tend to it.” Greg explained, “You should go say hello,”  
  
“Yeah, that sounds nice.” John agreed.  
  
Greg hummed softly as he crouched back down to the ovens, this time opening one and poking about inside.  
  
John turned around to leave, when Greg suddenly whistled to him to get his attention, when he turned back he found the cook throwing a small round bread bun at him.  
  
The bread had two little parts sticking out of it on the top, making for a pair of bread bunny ears. John smiled at the little touch.  
  
Ducking his head in gratitude, he left the cook be as he closed the door behind him.  
  
It didn't take much time to find the large entrance doors. The air outside was warm and fresh, and the entrance was every bit as calmingly green as John remembered it. Put aside the distinct sounds of little children running around, making a fuss, coming from the back of the house.  
  
John circled the house carefully. The backside seemed to be, most likely, the alleged garden. It consisted of a few flowerbeds and what he thought were vegetable patches scattered about seemingly at random through the large back yard.  
  
There were about 10 children running about, carrying little green watering cans and plastic shovels, looks completed with gardening gloves obviously too large for them.  
  
John stood there for awhile, taking the scene in, before he spotted a group of three children, huddled around a young woman squatting down to talk to them.  
As he walked closer he noticed she was wearing a plain pink shirt and some oversized sweatpants, as well as a comically large sun hat. She looked adorable in the kind of cliché sense of the word.  
  
“Hello. What have we here?” he asked warmly, once he approached the little group.  
  
One of the girls, a short thing with long black hair tied into two pigtails, looked up at him curiously. “Milo’s getting a scolding because he walked on the flowerbeds!” she explained in her best business tone.  
  
“Oh, is that so?” John hummed in agreement, turning his attention to the only boy in the group.  
  
The younger boy, Milo, frowned and looked away, awkwardly attempting to cross his hands on his chest, while still holding onto a small plastic hoe.  
  
John nodded sympathetically back at the girl, who was now looking quite proud of herself.  
  
“Hello. John, was it?” asked a voice from across him. The woman was now standing up, reaching out a hand to John. “I’m Molly, it’s lovely to finally meet you,” she said.  
  
“Yes. It’s great to meet you as well, Molly,” John smiled as he shook her hand.  
  
“Sorry I didn't have the time to come around yesterday,” she shook her head apologetically, “it’s really nice having a real nurse around, though. I did my best after Mary left, but there's only so much I can do.” she sighed.  
  
“Doctor, actually. Not a nurse, but I’ll do my best to match up to the standards.”  
  
“Oh gosh! I’m sorry, Doctor.” Molly corrected nervously.  
  
John shook his head, “It’s not a problem.” he said, dismissing the mistake with a smile. He was getting the feeling it's a claim he’s going to have to deal with a lot in the next couple of days.  
  
“I see you've been to the kitchen,” she mentioned, nodding towards the bunny-shaped bread he was holding.  
  
“Yes, seemed an awful mess in there,” he laughed.  
  
“Oh gosh, don't you know it. My kids are hardly anything compared to Sherlock’s though. Silver linings and all that.”  
  
“Sherlock’s?” John asked, curiously.  
  
“Oh, haven't you met him yet? He takes care of the younger ones. Tall guy, has a kind of mysterious and handsome look to him,” Molly explained, blushing just a bit as she realized how much she revealed.  
  
“Don't think I have, actually.” John let it slide, amused. “Haven't had the time to do my rounds yet,” he apologized.  
  
“Oh, well, I’m sure you'll get along famously,” she added, sounding a bit nervous, “Everyone’s really a great bunch around here.”  
  
“Oh, yes. Everyone’s been incredibly nice. It’s really a great place,” John agreed happily.  
  
They were both turned to looking at the children now, the little group around them have already ran off once Molly’s attention was turned elsewhere. The woman was wearing a slightly more worried expression, but both seemed content.  
  
“So what did you do before you came to us, John?” Molly asked.  
  
“Oh a bit of this and that,” he coughed nervously. “And a military career before that, mainly.”  
  
“Really? That sounds awfully exciting, I hope we don't bore you too much.”  
  
“Not at all, a bit boring could be nice now and then.”  
  
“Of course,” Molly agreed. She seemed a bit distracted now, looking at one of the boys as he made his way towards them.  
  
“Well, some days definitely feel like a battlefield here,” Molly laughed.  
  
John cringed slightly, but smiled along.  
  
The boy reached them now, making a beeline towards Molly, he sobbed loudly, “I’m sorry, ma’am. I think, I. I definitely,” he exclaimed, waving his hands around as he talked. “I think I ruined it,” he finally managed, pointing generally in the direction he came from, he looked up at her and then turned his head right back down.  
  
“It’s okay, Les. Let's go see it, alright?” Molly said soothingly, patting the boy on the head.  
  
Les was an awkward, blonde little thing. His clothes were slightly too large for him, and he was covered in dirt top to bottom. He nodded and took her hand, starting to pull her towards the area he came from.  
  
“I’m sorry, John, Let's talk later, alright?” She called out to him.  
  
“Of course. Good luck!” John called back, as he watched Molly get dragged off by the boy.  
  
John turned back to the house, now that his conversation parter was better occupied.  
  
Molly was nice, he decided, if a bit awkward. She seemed to honestly care for the children, at least, and obviously made a good attempt at keeping up the conversation.  
  
Eventually, John decided to go back to his room, maybe Abel was awake by now and he could bother him for a bit.  
  
It was on the way that John noticed a large amount of noise coming from the dining room. The room was actually an open patch on the floor, sharing a wall and a connecting door with the kitchen on one of its closed sides. It was a large space occupied by two long tables, and currently filled to its capacity with about 15 little children. Most seemed roughly six or seven, though some were younger.  
  
He noticed a distinctive orange mop at the far side of one of the tables. The short boy looked up and caught his eye, immediately smiling and giving him a little wave. John waved back, happy to see at least one of the children was already warming up to him. John wondered how long it'll be before Martin, his little guide through the house as of yesterday, would actually speak to him.  
  
Martin turned his attention back to what used to be a bun shaped bread in front of him, and now was a mess of tiny little pieces scattered on the plate with relative order. He considered for awhile before picking up one of the larger pieces and cutting it to two, then placed it back.  
  
John let the child be. Closer to him was a man of about thirty, running around between the children, clearly attempting and failing to keep the mess contained. He stopped at one of the younger children, barely reaching the child’s hand, clutching his bread, in time to pull it away from his plastic cup full of milk. Clearly a bit too late either way, John thought as he noticed a fair amount of milk splashed on the table and plate in front of him.  
  
The taller man sighed and said something to the child, then continued his dashing between the rest of them. He did seem a bit mysterious, dressed in all darks which contrasted sharply against the overall light interior of the house, but John wasn’t sure he could agree with Molly’s description of handsome.  
  
The man was tall, all sharp angles, his bone structure oddly visible under a thin, lanky complexion. His face, awkwardly stretched out, changed expressions at about a million miles per second.  
  
John considered butting in to greet him for a moment, but eventually decided against it considering how busy he seemed.  
  
He continued on his quest towards the room, wishing Abel to be awake and present.

The next couple of days flew by in a haze.  
  
John spent most of his days with Greg and Abel, although sometimes he ducked in to say hello to Molly.  
  
Martha and Sherlock more often than not seemed to live at a separate pace, notoriously busy.  
  
Memorably, he managed to squeeze in a greeting at Sherlock, at which point the man stopped to look at him for about two seconds before striding past him, leaving John completely ignored.  
  
He went around asking about Sherlock after that.  
  
“He ain't as bad as it seems,” Greg assured him. The older man was looking a bit worried, as if he were trying a bit too much to protect the other man’s name.  
  
Abel seemed about halfway on his opinion of Sherlock, “He isn't bad…” he said thoughtfully, “An acquired taste, maybe?” the man finished lamely.  
  
John sighed, he was really getting nowhere, though he couldn't say he minded too much. He was all too familiar with the notion that in any randomly assorted bunch working as closely together as the Baker’s crew, there was bound to be at least one person who wasn't as much of a team player.  
  
He pushed the taller man out of his mind for now.  
  
John, on his part, focused on getting used to the place. The house was smaller than he originally gave it credit for, and he managed to memorize most rooms by the second day in.  
  
He often kept to his room, or wandered around the house aimlessly. On the second day he went out to the garden again, and ended up helping Molly fix the mess the younger kids made of it the same morning.  
  
Before he knew it, John started on his first days on the job. It was about as boring as he’d initially expected it to be. Molly, being used to treating the children for minor injuries, almost took over his job without meaning to. The children were used to turning to her, and John had a bit of a hard time convincing them he’s at least her equal when it comes to medicine for a scraped knee. He was stuck with filing away lists of the medicines they had on hand and organizing his little ‘nurse’s room’.  
  
John quickly learnt everyone in the house was something of a caretaker alongside Molly and Sherlock. The kids often turned to the workers with questions and requests. Sometimes they were put directly under their care, while their usual caretakers were busy cleaning their messes, preparing for an especially challenging activity, or simply resting.  
  
The house itself was rather small, he was surprised to find out. It supported an overall of 27 children, the younger ones, ages 3-7 were under Sherlock’s immediate care, they were the larger group totaling in 15 children. The older ones, 8-12, were under Molly, with a close runner up of 12 children under her care.  
  
The age division seemed awfully impractical to John, he’d assume they'd prefer each caretaker to go through the child’s whole stay with them. However, considering how small the staff was, and how naturally each child interacted with the staff as a whole, he thought it might be okay.  
  
Plus, John didn't actually know anything about children, so he probably wasn't the best reference point on how you should raise one.  
  
In his short time in the Baker’s Children’s Home, John noticed a very obvious difference in the way the two caretakers acted with their children. Molly opted a mentor approach, giving the children plenty of free room, she gave them the mission or game they were to do next, and let them make what they wanted of it.  
  
The children, on their part, were very happy to report to her on just about anything they deemed ‘out of the ordinary’, from a fight breaking out to simply someone working too slow to their tastes.  
  
They came to Molly with their successes, and sometimes failures, and she was happy to nod along and give praises under either of the circumstances, with the exception of some of the older kids entering early ‘know all’ teenager mentality.  
  
The children absolutely adored her.  
  
Sherlock, on the other hand, went for a more hands-on approach. He played along with the children during activities, going to his full extent to give attention to everyone.  
  
What's more, he honestly seemed to get into some of the games. John vividly remembered watching as Sherlock won a board game, to one of the younger kid’s dismay, to which the child declared the older man was cheating by being a grown up.  
  
He also noticed Sherlock was the only one from the staff who actually ate alongside the children, watched their honestly awful cartoons with them, usually over and over, and sometimes he would even take a mattress from one of the storage rooms to sleep in their room, if someone was having an especially hard day.  
  
He was absolutely one of them, and the children treated him with a mix of adoration and respect.  
  
Of course, that applied both ways. Where Molly naturally fit into the hustle of the house, a good-natured easy relationship that developed between the older tenants, Sherlock was something of a black sheep.  
  
He would barely talk to the other staff at all, John only heard him talk to Martha once or twice, curiously calling her Mrs Hudson, similar to the way the kids did.  
  
It wasn't the first time John had a ‘black sheep’ situation, so he wasn't too put off by it, but he found it awfully strange how much most the tenants protected the man. In most cases he was familiar with, people who were so obviously rude and unsocial were something of disliked outcasts more than cared for underdogs.  
  
Between Molly, who obviously had a one-sided thing going for him, Greg who was all too ready to defend him, and Martha who basically saw him as her own child, the man surely got the approval of the whole house on his side.

 

The day was shaping up to be absolutely, ridiculously boring. Monday's often were, he found, with Abel being on a supply run and Greg doing double duty as he firmly believed in Sunday's as days off from doing the dishes. What's more, it seemed it was a scheduled in-house day, and though he’d never wish any harm on the children’s well being, for god’s sake, not as much as a scraped knee for an hour, now. And god knows, for a relatively small bunch, he didn't have many quiet days off from them. John will be the first to admit he hasn't done many weeks on-duty yet, but it was definitely a recurring theme. Goddamn Mondays.  
  
He was fairly certain it’s been about a week before he heard a soft knock on the door. John scrambled up from the little patient’s bed and threw his book aside, before clearing his throat and getting up to open the door.  
  
Behind it were a very silent Martin and Sherlock. John gave them both equally soothing smiles, gesturing for them to sit down on the little kiddie chairs he set up in the room, to make it look more like a ‘real examination room’.  
  
“So,” John started with a deep breath, “Could you tell me what's wrong?” he said, turning to Martin.  
The little boy looked around helplessly, barely moving as his eyes darted around the room, from Sherlock to John and back.  
  
The caretaker didn't seem too worried on his part, keeping a stoic frown as the scene developed.  
John tried looking sympathetic, as he continued to look at Martin in silence. He wasn't completely sure what to do in this scenario.  
  
Martin was, as far as the children in the orphanage went, one of the quieter ones. In fact, he was probably the quietest one. John had heard him speak a couple of times before, mainly to Sherlock and Martha, though quietly enough he could barely hear, and never to John directly, though the little boy never failed to nod or wave in greeting when he saw him.  
  
Sherlock, still looking directly at John, raised his hand and put it on Martin’s back. A small but meaningful gesture, John realized, as the little boy’s expression changed to deep concentration.  
  
“Mr Nurse,” Martin smiled proudly, “I’m feeling sick.” he spoke in a very soft voice, just barely audible, but clearly determined.  
  
“Doctor.” John corrected, automatically.  
  
Martin looked puzzled for a second, “Dr Nurse,” he offered.  
  
Sherlock snickered.  
  
John couldn't help a smile, but he gave Sherlock a small scolding look for good measure. “Could you tell me what you're feeling more specifically, Martin?”  
  
“Yea.” he said, slightly louder now. “It's my heads. It hurts, a lot!” he explained, most traces of his previous embarrassment hidden by the need to carefully explain his headache.  
  
“Alright,” John nodded reasonably, he got up as he reached out a hand to the little boy. Martin took it, and was carefully led to sit on the patients bed.  
John went through the usual procedure and questions. Breath in, breath out. Checking ears and throat for inflammation.  
  
“Alright, Martin, tilt your head this way,” John said, carefully placing his hands on the boy’s head and leaning them sideways. “Does that hurt any worse?”  
  
The boy nodded slightly, clearly unsure, still frowning.  
  
John went through the rest of the procedure, does it hurt if you lean this way? If I press my fingers here? Stand up and walk with your each leg touching the previous one. Reach your hands out like so. Do this, do that.  
  
At some point during the exam, Sherlock sighed loudly from behind him. He was now sitting in the doctor’s chair looking about as bored as John had a few minutes previous.  
  
The more he saw of Sherlock, the less John knew what to make of the man. He supposed the checkup seemed a bit over the top for him, considering it's obvious Martin has just been failing to blow his nose proper, but, quite frankly, John didn't care. He wanted to be as through as possible, and also he was actually really quite bored, himself.  
  
Once done, John sent the two on their way with his diagnosis of a common cold, “Feel better soon, Martin.” he smiled at the younger boy, who seemed relived the examination was now over.  
  
Martin nodded, “Yes, Dr Nurse.” he added quietly, when Sherlock gave him an expectant look.  
  
“Thank you, Doctor Watson.” Sherlock said. His deep voice sounding a tad loud in John’s ears, now used to Martin’s little squeaks, as he spoke for the first time since he entered.  
  
John nodded, surprised, “Of course, Sherlock,” he relied with a bit of a stunned expression, reaching out a hand to the taller man.  
  
Sherlock looked at it for a second before seemingly remembering what to do with it, then shook his hand awkwardly while pointedly looking away.  
  
It was actually quite adorably charming, the doctor thought, amused as he watched the pair toddle off towards the center of the house.  
  
John sighed. He really did have a long, boring day ahed of him.


	4. I’m done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’ve given up on this story. oops

hey guys   
this is really old. like it’s not even that old but it’s old enough that i’m  
a. embarrassed by it  
b. can’t bring myself to reread it much less continue it 

which i mean, that’s what first projects are for right fellas??   
anyway. 

for those of you who kept interest (impressive) here’s what was going to happen:   
i don’t actually remember where i left off so sorry if i’m missing anything / repeating anything   
also it’s my notes as-is so again. sorry

Chapter 3: Adaptation. 2k  
still unsure what to do with this scene:  
"You're the new doctor.” Sherlock greeted cooly.  
“Actually, I’m the doc- oh. Well. Yes, yes I am.” John coughed awkwardly. He might've been getting a bit too used to making that correction around here. “How did you know?” he asked, curious.   
“Well, it’s not that difficult to say,” 

Sherlock and John continue in a hesitant, formal relationship.   
Both do their jobs daily, and the children, who've now warmed up to John, look forward to spending time with the two, hopefully together.   
John and Sherlock bond slightly over childish games and through cleaning up.   
Mrs Hudson is introduced as the caretaker for the older children, 8-12. Molly Hooper is introduced as the orphanage's owner.   
(apparently that was the original plan???? i dislike it now so molly's the caretaker of the older children, hudson is the owner of the orphanage)   
Anderson is briefly mentioned as the place's coordinator and social worker. He's awful bad at his job and Mr. Hudson does most of the work instead.   
John speaks with Lestrade and Abel a bit more this episode, trying to discover more about the kids and the other workers. 

Chapter 4: First Disappearance. 3k  
Sherlock and John grow closer. No longer tip-toing around eachother, Sherlock allows himself to trust John with the kids.  
John is starting to get used to life in the orphanage.   
The first disappearance, while John present, occurs. It takes him awhile to notice, but he eventually does and looks for an explaination.   
First turning to his roommates, then Anderson, then Hudson, the Sherlock, in increasing levels of panic and anger.   
Sherlock calms him down by telling him he's being ridiculous; this is an orphanage, of course children come and go.   
John agrees and dismisses the awkward responses given by the other workers due to embarrassment, after Sherlock's heated response.   
John eventually returns to apologize to Sherlock, the two have a deeper conversation and Sherlock admits to his brother's, Mycroft's, past in the orphanage, still hiding the disappearances. 

Chapter 5: Revealing. 3k   
The crew continue in daily life.   
John discovers the children are uncomfortable with the disappearance of the child, through his best friend who comes for treatment for a minor wound. John is suddenly active trying to find the source again, though less obviously.   
While asking around, a second child disappears.   
John turns to Sherlock for answers, however Sherlock persists John is reading into things too much, 'of course the child wouldn't understand his friend suddenly leaving'.   
John isn't convinced this time.   
He breaks into the head office at night in hopes of finding new information, only to be confronted by Sherlock when he enters the office. 

Chapter 6: Confrontation   
john and sherlock argue. they also kinda fall in love a little bit during the adrenaline rush  
john is unsure and scared. sherlock is traumatized and tries hard to protect what he's loved and lived in his whole life 

Chapter 7: Disagreement & Persuasion.   
john finally chatches on. it terrifies him and he doesn't know what to do. sherlock reveals his past fully, but continues to protect the orphanage. sherlock is aggressive, like a wounded animal protecting its home. john is stuck in a dillema and begins folding towards not saying a thing 

Chapter 8: Outside Source  
it's the holidays and the non-permanent crew is released to their homes. john, not being a caretaker, goes home to Harry. they don't get along very well but seeing her and speaking to her, and generally being away from the orphanage, makes him understand his mistake 

Chapter 9: Confrontation (short chapter?)  
it all happens fast. john understands what he needs to do, though he heeds sherlock with a warning first, the man decided to do whatever he can to continue being with his children.   
sherlock refuses john's attempts at making him seem innocent, he also refuses to run away.   
the orphanage is taken down, an investigation goes underway, revealing the obvious results and the legal proceedings begin 

Chapter 10: Afterthought   
john meets sherlock at the prison. sherlock asks about the kids, and john tells him what he can. john asks about sherlock. john tries again to plead sherlock to expain the situation, knowing full well sherlock's past in the place can have him innocent. sherlock reveals john's motives have more to do with personal guilt and a savior complex than the shorter man is willing to admit. sherlock calmly refuses.

end 

to clarify, the orphanage are selling off the older kids illegally to families which aren’t able to clear the governmental tests for adoption. sherlock grew up in the orphanage so even though he knows it’s wrong, he continues to protect it, mycroft was one of the kids taken away. here’s what i had written as a concept

original idea:   
Sherlock is a long time worker at an orphanage johh recently started working at. the orphanage actually have to do with child trafficking, sherlock is aware but seeing as he grew up in the orphanage he's powerless. mycroft was one of the kids that had been sold off, purely in order to shut sherlock up after he curiously prodded too much into the disappearance of a Carl Powers. 

things changed a lot while i was writing it but the spine stays more or less the same?   
anyway that’s the story   
sorry for not being able to finish it, but i hope if you liked this you’ll like potential future projects even more!

**Author's Note:**

> Will add tags as they come.


End file.
